The Candy Collection
Book One
Life is More Than Candy Hearts
Authors:
Lisa Bilbrey, Laura Braley, Michele Richard
Smashwords Edition
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Published by
Renaissance Romance Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright 2012
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
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Acknowledgements
Renaissance Romance Publishing and the authors would like to thank Elizabeth Lawrence and Nick from Everything Indie. To all our fans in our fan groups and pages - we love you!
Lisa Bilbrey
To my co-conspirators Michele Richard and Laura Braley thank you for always being there. You warm my heart and always make me smile. I’d like to thank my husband, Chan for giving me the time I needed to vent, grumble when I hit a road block, and giving me unwavering support. Cooper, Alex, and Sophie, thank you for being my biggest fans. Your love is a constant reminder of why I work so hard on making my dreams come true. Vikki, Danny, Kelly, Tina MacDonald, Julie Faria, and Mina, thank you for every kind word and encouragement.
Laura Braley
Thanks and love to my mom Marianna, my sister Michelle, and my friends Melissa, Kristie, Kris, Patty, KellyJo, and Maggie for always pushing me. Lisa Bilbrey and Michele Richard, thank you for being two of the best friends any woman could ever ask for. Your unfailing love and support buoys me when I think I can’t go on. Special love and gratitude to my daughter, Mara Spencer. Your help with your sisters and brother, gave me the time to do this. Mara, Kenna, Mikki, and Shane - thank you for making me want to be more for you.
Michele Richard
Thank you to my family for all their support: Maurice, Danielle, Virginia, and Pat, my mom.
They’ve endured my long nights of writing and editing with total understanding and unwavering support. I love you all. Without Lisa and Laura this might have never happened. I thank God everyday to have two partners who are also my best friends.
Michele Richard is the proud mother of two daughters. Married since 1997 to a wonderful husband, who for twenty-five years has been her best friend and supporter. She's also published through The Writer's Coffee Shop Publishing House.
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Life's Unexpected Gifts
Chapter 1: February Fifth
Wrapping my burgundy fleece throw around my shoulders, I tucked my knees closer to my chest and took a tentative sip of my coffee. Chilled from the cool winter weather, I exhaled, smiling as the puff of vapor floated between my lips. The air was thick with the early morning fog. A light drizzling mixture of sleet and snow sprinkled onto the parched, cracked earth. It’d been a hot and dry summer here in Northern Texas, and the fall hadn’t given us much rain, either. Now, with winter setting in, we’d managed to get a bit more moisture, but nowhere close to what we needed.
I’d always enjoyed the rain; it made me think of my father. He’d say, “Rain is bits of heaven falling on our shoulders, little one.”
Brushing away the tears under my eyes, I tried to stop myself from losing control over my grief. They had told me it would get easier with time, but almost a year had passed, and every day he crept his way into my memories. Death was a way of life, I knew this, but to lose him before I had the chance to tell him goodbye hurt more than I wanted to admit. All I wanted was one more heartbeat.
Jarred from my thoughts when the phone rang inside the small brick house I’d been living in for almost six months, I rushed in to answer it, already knowing who’d be on the other end. Every morning at nine, my best—and only—friend, Kelly Morgan called, claiming to need me for one reason or another. Once it was because she’d broken the heel on her favorite pair of black pumps and needed my expert advice. The next time, she claimed to have locked herself out of her apartment, yet when I rushed over with the spare she’d given me, I found her curled up on the couch with a blanket, two cups of coffee, and a chick flick in the DVD player. Even though I found it annoying, I never made a big deal about it. It had crushed her when my father died, too.
Placing the receiver at my ear, I chirped, “Hello, Kelly.”
“How did you know it was me?” She pretended to be shocked, but I knew her better than anyone.
I curled up in the middle of the chocolate brown sectional sofa in my living room, making sure my feet were covered. “Besides the fact that I have caller ID, you’re the only person who ever calls. What’s up?”
“Oh, well, I have this date and he’s bringing a friend,” she started, but paused when I let out an aggravated huff. “Emma, just hear me out.”
“I’m not interested. Plus, I have to work.”
“You don’t even know what night I’m talking about,” she muttered.
“It doesn’t matter. I will make sure I have to work that night,” I scoffed. “Kel, you know that I love you, but I’m just not interested in dating right now. I mean, what’s the point? You get all worked up over some guy, just to have him break your heart when he gets tired of you.” I’d seen her crumble on more than one occasion because some jerk left her broken.
“How do you know that he will break your heart? You’ve never even been out with him, or anyone, for that matter.”
Flinching, I knew she had a point. I’d never been one to settle for just anyone.
“He wouldn’t want you to sit around wallowing in your grief.”
“That’s not fair,” I whispered, closing my eyes.
“No, it isn’t, but I’m right. Emma, your dad wanted you to be happy. Do you think locking yourself away from the world is what he would want?”
“I’m not locking myself away,” I grumbled.
“Working ten hours a day at that diner is not what I’d call living, doodlebug.” She sighed. “Look, I’ve got to run or I’m going to be late, but think about coming out with us. Please?”
“I’ll think about it, but don’t get your hopes up,” I replied. “Love you, Kel.”
“Love you, too, Em.”
Shrugging the blanket off, I padded across the living room, lifting my favorite picture of me and my dad from the top of the oak entertainment center.
It had been taken during my tenth birthday party. My father, Dell stood behind me, one hand resting on each shoulder and his chin on the top of my head. It’d been the first birthday without my mother, Vikki and I’d been struggling all day. After two long years fighting breast cancer, her body had grown weak. I tried to be strong, knowing that she was in a better place, but I was a child and needed her.
Losing my mother had brought me and my father closer together. We’d learned to rely on each other, never forgetting to let the other know how much we loved them. However, fate dealt a cruel hand and stole him away from me, too. A drunk driver was all it took; suddenly, I was alone.
With a heavy sigh, I placed the silver picture frame back where it belonged and headed into my bedroom. Dwelling over the past wouldn’t do me any good. Kelly was right; I needed to start living again, but going out with her, whoever her newest man was, and whichever of his friends took pity on me didn’t sound like a good place to start. I wanted someone to fall in love with me, cherish me the way my father had my mother. I wanted my very own Prince Charming.
Half an hour later, I walked out of my house, bundled up in a vain attempt to fight the bitter cold wind that whipped around me. Climbing into my Black Dodge Ram pickup, I started it up, smiling when the engine roared to life. My father took great pride in his truck, keeping her in the best condition. I’d never understood why he referred to it as her, but he’d laughed me off, insisting that it was a man thing. Turning on the heater, I buckled my seat belt and headed into town.
Stopping by the post office to grab my mail, I hurried toward the diner, knowing Jay wouldn’t be happy with me. In the two years I’d been working for him, I’d never been late, but he’d make sure I never heard the last of it. At nearly sixty, he’d find any reason to complain.
I parked in the alley and rushed inside, shivering from the subzero temperatures. Shrugging off my coat, I hung it inside my locker, dropping my bag on the bottom. Pulling out my black apron, I tied it around my waist, thankful Jay wasn’t one of those bosses who insisted we wore little blue and white uniforms. With spending eight to ten hours on our feet, he said, comfort came before style.
I rushed through the back, ignoring the whistle coming from our head cook, Calvin. After two years, I’d gotten used to dealing with him. Besides, other than the occasional offhanded remark, he was harmless. His wife kept him on a short leash.
Busting through the swinging doors, I grabbed my order pad from under the counter.
“You’re late,” groused Jay, just like I knew he would.
“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s snowing outside. The roads were slick,” I quipped, starting a fresh cup of coffee. “Besides, I’m here now, so you can relax.”
He turned back to his paper with a snort. “You’re still late.”
Ignoring him, I waited for the pot to fill before I headed around the small diner and refilled everyone’s cup. The last few dawdlers stumbled inside, searching for breakfast, while the old men gathered around three tables in the back, gossiping worse than the women down at the hair salon did.
I’d just cleared off the last of the tables when the front door opened, a gust of cold air filling the room. Looking over, I smiled, finding Lucas Gregory coming in. Tall and muscular, he had shaggy blond hair and bright hazel eyes with golden specks. We’d been in the same graduating class at the high school, but we didn’t run in the same circles. I lived in the library, while he spent his days on the football field.
He’d moved in with his grandfather just after the start of our freshman year. All the girls swooned over him, but he never seemed to pay them any attention. Quiet and reserved, I’d never hear him utter more than a couple words in the four years we spent together. After we graduated, he took off to one of the small colleges down south, while I chose to attend our local community college. Two years later, he showed back up in town, working for his grandfather. Just after my father passed away, Lucas started coming into the diner more often; a couple of times a week to start, but now he came in almost every day.
“Hey, Emma.” Yanking the door shut behind him, he shuddered. “It’s getting colder.”
“What on earth are you doing out in that mess?” I asked, moving around the counter and pouring him a cup of coffee. He took a seat at the counter, laying his coat on the stool next to him. “You’re not working today, are you?”
“No, the old man’s down near Austin; something about a new tracker that’s supposed to make harvesting his fields easier.”
“Jeb’s actually looking at technology made in this century?” I teased. “What’s the world come to?”
Lucas laughed, his eyes lighting up in amusement. “That’s what I said. You know Gramps, though; it won’t be more than a week before he’s complaining about something not working right.”
“Yeah, that sounds like him. Are you eating or just enjoying the coffee?”
“Do you have any of your apple pie?” he asked, eyeing the glass case behind me.
“There might be a piece or two left. Ice cream?”
He nodded. “Please.”
Placing the larger of the two slices onto a plate, I added a scoop of vanilla ice cream and set it down in front of him with a smile. He moaned the moment the dessert touched his tongue.
He came in almost every day, asking if I had any pie for him. I’d started sticking one in the back just for him.
While he savored each bite, I worked on restocking the front. I knew every time Daisy worked the early shift that I’d have to clean up after her. I didn’t really mind so much; it helped the day go by just that much faster. My father always said that idle hands were a waste of time. I never believed him until after he’d passed. Now I sought after anything that kept me busy. It was in those few moments where I stood still that I thought of him the most.
Once Lucas finished his pie and coffee, he stood up and put his coat back on. Fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, he slipped a ten onto the counter. “Have a good day, Emma. Give me a call if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Lucas,” I replied, feeling my cheeks warm from his attention. “Be careful. The roads are getting slick.”
“I will.”
The rest of the day went by painfully slow. Due to the sleet changing into heavy snow, people weren’t coming in to eat, choosing to scrounge around their houses rather than pay the five dollars for one of Jay’s famous cheeseburgers, even if they were the best in the county. After three hours without a single person coming in, Jay huffed and announced that we were closing early.
Hugging my coat around my body, I stepped through the backdoor and took a deep breath. The night had turned colder and a light layer of snow dusted the ground. Being extra careful, I walked over to my truck, pulling open the door. Gasping, I found an origami butterfly sitting on the seat. It was made from blue paper with little pink roses.
I smiled and picked it up, turning it over in my hand to admire it from every angle. Dropping my eyes down to the seat, I found a piece of paper folded in half.
Opening the note, I brought my fingers to my lips as I read.
In Japan, the butterfly symbolizes a new beginning and long life.
I hope this makes you smile, like you did for me today, love.
Chapter 2: Lying in Wait
Lying in the middle of my bed, with my blankets tucked up around me, I stared at the little butterfly resting on my nightstand. Each angle seemed so delicate and fragile, yet strong and beautiful at the same time. I reached out and picked it up, laying it on pillow next to me. Someone had left this for me, but I didn’t understand why, or who. I wasn’t anyone special; just Emma, plain and simple.
Of course, my father would’ve argued with me. Dell always grumbled over how I was always “thinking less of myself,” as he put it. No matter how much I disagreed with him, he’d just smile and tilt his head to the side, saying, “Emma Louise Dawson, you’ve never been ordinary. You’ve always been extraordinary.”
At the time, I’d roll my eyes and ignore him, earning me a lecture over showing him the proper amount of respect, but the words stuck with me. Even when I felt they were nothing more than a lie a daddy told his little girl to make her feel better when she felt the world closing in around her.
Placing the butterfly back on my table, I rolled onto my back, covering my eyes with my arm and struggling to keep my tears at bay. I missed him so much. Time wasn’t making anything easier.
Throwing off my dark green comforter, I climbed out of bed, shivering when my toes touched the cold wood floors. The winds from the day before had calmed, leaving an eerie silence in their wake. From the frost covering the windows, I knew the temperature had dropped well below freezing. Pulling my robe off the back of the door, I put it on and slipped my feet into my slippers. Padding through the house, I stopped and turned up the heat, before heading into the kitchen to start some coffee.
Right on cue, the phone rang. I decided with a sigh that I wasn’t in the mood to talk to Kelly. She’d pressure me to go out with her again and wouldn’t take no as an answer. I loved her, but she didn’t understand why I didn’t want to just settle on anybody. I wanted somebody.
On the fourth ring, the machine picked up. “Hey, this is Emma. I’m not home right now, so leave me a message and I just might call you back. You know if I feel like it.”
“Emma Dawson, I know you are listening to this,” Kelly huffed, her irritation evident. “Fine, don’t pick up. I don’t care anyway. We’re leaving at seven. If you want to come, give me a call. If not…well, I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I really want you to come, though. It’d be fun and you need some fun. Please, just think about it, okay? I love you, Em. Bye.”
Running my fingers through my long, dark hair, I fought against the urge to call her back. Guilt ate at me for ignoring her, for not being the person she wanted me to be.
I braced myself against the counter and looked out at the backyard. Snow covered everything, meaning the roads would be slick on my drive into work. Grabbing my favorite travel mug from the cabinet, I placed it next to the coffee pot and set off to my bedroom to get dressed, knowing I’d need a few extra minutes this morning. I’d been raised on how to drive on the icy terrain; however, most of the drivers out there hadn’t been taught how to handle such conditions.
Dressing in a pair of jeans and a long sleeve, gray t-shirt, I added a sweater, thankful I’d showered last night. Just the thought of stepping in under the water caused my body to erupt in goose bumps. Once I had my shoes on, I rushed into the kitchen, filling my travel cup and pulling my coat on. I hurried out to my truck and slid into the seat, praying it would warm up fast so I could turn the heater on. The temperature had to be at least twenty degrees, if not colder.
Ten minutes later, I parked behind the diner. On my way in, I saw two cars sitting in the ditches, and at least four more stopped on the side of the highway. Climbing out of the truck, I headed inside, stowing my things in my locker before heading to the front. Jay sat in front of the cash register, just like he always did. A short man with sparse black hair, he’d given his life to his diner. It wasn’t much, but other than his wife Marianne, it was all he had. I couldn’t fault him for taking a bit of pride in the place.
“Emma, you got a package this morning,” he groused, motioning to the end of the counter, where a medium brown box lay. “This isn’t the post office, sugar. Don’t make this a habit.”
“Sorry, Jay, I’m not expecting anything,” I explained. Tying my apron on, I moved over and picked it up. There wasn’t a return address, only my name scribbled on the top. My fingers shook with anticipation when I hooked my pinky under the thin layer of tape, popping one of the two panels open.
Releasing a shaky breath, I opened the other side, finding a leather-bound book resting inside.
Lifting it out of the box, I gasped, staring down at the collection of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poetry. She’d always been my favorite; her words spoke directly to my soul. With my lips trembling, I flipped the book open, finding a piece of stationery tucked between two of the pages.
I opened the note, immediately recognizing the same messy scrawl from the message I’d received with my butterfly.
Smiling, I recognized the verse from Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s A Child Asleep had been written out:
As the moths around a taper,
As the bees around a rose,
As the gnats around a vapour,---
So the Spirits group and close
Round about a holy childhood,
as if drinking its repose.
“Emma, sugar, what’s wrong?”
Until Jay spoke, I hadn’t realized I’d been sobbing quietly. A Child Asleep had always been my favorite of all Browning’s works.
“Emma?”
“I’m fine,” I murmured, brushing the moisture off my cheeks. “I’ll get right to work.”
“No rush, sugar,” he mumbled.
Placing the book inside the box with care, I carried it into the back and tucked it inside my locker. I read over the words on the note one more time before I tucked it into the front pocket of my apron, feeling the need to keep them close. Of all the words this person could have picked, they chose my favorite verse; something I’d never told anybody, not even my father. How could they have known?
I returned to work, trying to pretend that the note wasn’t sitting inside my front pocket, but every time I pulled my order pad out, my fingers grazed against the soft paper. More than once I found myself slipping it out just so I could reread the words. A smile would creep across my face, and, for the first time in a year, I almost felt happy.
“Hey, Emma,” Lucas called, walking into the diner. Stuffing the note back into my apron, I turned and poured him a cup of coffee. “Did you freeze last night?”
“Nearly,” I replied with a laugh. “How’d you handle the cold? Find one of the girls down at JD’s to keep you warm?”
“No,” he scoffed, frowning. “Why do you think I’d go down there, anyway?”
“Oh, come on, Lucas.” I shook my head. “You’re a good-looking guy, and I remember how all the girls used to flock to you in high school.”
“Not all of them,” he quipped, lifting an eyebrow at me. “You didn’t.”
“Guess you’ve got a point there, but I can admit I was a freak in high school.”
“No, you weren’t,” he disagreed, sounding upset. “You—you were unique.”
“Unique?” I snorted, covering my mouth in embarrassment. Lucas threw his head back, letting a roaring laugh burst out of his mouth. “I can’t believe I just did that. Kill me now.”
“Don’t be like that, Emma. It was cute,” he sputtered, trying to stop his laughter.
“It’s not funny,” I muttered, turning away from him.
Lucas reached out and placed his hand on my arm. “Hey, I’m sorry.” Looking over my shoulder, I saw him leaning over the counter, sincerity filling his eyes. “I didn’t mean to make fun of you. Besides, it really was cute.”
Shaking my head, I turned to face him again. “It wasn’t. It’s just like when we were in school. I always did something to make a fool of myself. It’s no wonder I didn’t have any friends.”
“I always kind of thought we were friends,” he mumbled, dropping his hand from my shoulder.
“We are now, but then?” I asked doubtfully. “You never talked to me.”
“You didn’t talk to me either,” Lucas pointed out.
“So we’re both at fault.” I smiled. “We can’t change the past; we can only focus on the now. Right now, we’re friends.”
“Yeah,” he said, but it sounded off, almost strained. Before I could question him, he grabbed his coat off the stool and pushed his arms into the sleeves. “I’d better go. Gramps is coming in tonight, and I’ve got a few chores left to do.”
“Hey, be safe out there.” I waved him off when he reached for his wallet. “This cup’s on me.”
“Fine, then consider this a tip.” Dropping a five dollar bill on the counter, he smirked and left.
Folding the crumbled bill evenly, I dropped it in the front pocket of my apron, once again feeling the paper in there. Being careful not to tear it, I unfolded the note, reading the words one more time. Of course, I already knew the poem, having memorized it years ago—but I now committed the handwriting to memory, noting the simple yet elegant curve of each letter.
“Emma, I need you to close tonight,” Jay barked, breaking me out of my trance.
Folding the note, I stuffed it back into my apron. Waving him off, I mumbled, “Sure, no problem, Jay.”
“Sugar, you’re acting kind of funny,” he drawled, climbing off his chair. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle this place tonight? With the roads being so icy, I doubt you’ll have more than a few people come in. I hate to ask, but my knees are aching something bad today.”
Every time we had a cold front come through the area, Jay’s knees started acting up. He’d spent the first forty years of his life driving a truck back and forth across the country. It hadn’t been until he met Marianne that he settled down. When I asked him why, he shrugged his shoulders, saying, “Never had a reason to before.” At the time it sounded corny and ridiculous, but after watching them over the last couple of years, I understood. They reminded each other of their love each day in simple ways. They had a lifetime’s worth of love, just like my parents had, and I longed to find the same thing for myself.
“Go home, Jay,” I insisted, smiling. “I’ve got everything taken care of, I promise.”
“Call if you need anything,” he ordered, limping around the corner and heading into the back.
Starting a fresh pot of coffee, I busied myself with organizing behind the counter; anything to keep my mind off the message in my pocket.
Between the origami butterfly last night and the book of my favorite poetry this morning, it seemed like someone was trying very hard to get my attention. The only problem was, I had no idea who.
Like Kelly often pointed out, I’d never been one to date. The few boys who did ask me out were lackluster. They opted to discuss the latest season of football, or the last action movie they’d seen. I wanted more than some jock. I longed for someone who’d spend the night watching the stars, perhaps even making a wish. A person who’d say nothing at all, yet tell me everything he thought with the touch of his fingers, the feel of his lips dancing over my skin. I wanted perfection.
Chapter 3: A Friend Indeed
The next morning, I was startled awake by someone beating on my front door; not just knocking, but pounding their fists like the end of the world was coming and they were given the job to alert the masses. Scrambling out of my bed, I pulled the blanket off with me, wrapped it around my shoulders, and rushed into the living room. Numb from the cold, my fingers fumbled to unlock the deadbolt Lucas insisted on installing the minute he heard I’d moved out into the country.
“I’m coming, hold your horses!” I yelled feeling aggravated. Today was my only day off after working ten straight. I’d planned on sleeping in. Then, when I did manage to drag myself out of bed, I’d spend the day reading through my new book of poetry. At least, I hoped I’d get to do that.
When I yanked the door open, I found Kelly leaning against the frame, hand up and ready to thwack her knuckles again. Just under five and half feet, she had sleek, jet black hair and contrasting bright blue eyes. With a spunky attitude and thirst to live her life to the fullest, she always saw the cup as being half full. I envied her carefree, lighthearted journey through life.
Kelly and I met when we were thirteen years old. Her father was the pastor at the Methodist Church and her mother was the business manager over at Dr. Sherman’s office.
When I first met Kelly, I thought she’d be like all the other girls in our class, interested in hair, makeup, and boys, but she surprised me. She did love those things, but she also enjoyed a good book, or losing herself in a good song. My mother died a few months later and Kelly didn’t leave my side for two weeks. She said I needed her. I really did.
“Morning, sunshine,” she cooed, bustling in past me. She carried a small box wrapped in a glossy red paper. Shivering, she threw me a disgusted look from over her shoulder. “Jesus Christ, it’s freezing in here, Em!”
“Then turn the heat up,” I mumbled, shutting the door behind her. Shifting my eyes over to the clock that hung over the door to the kitchen, I groaned. “What the hell are you doing here at eight in the morning, Kel? You know I didn’t have to work today.”
“I’ve fallen in love, Emma,” she sighed, messing with the thermostat. Turning back to me, she smiled, placing her hand over her heart. “Like really in love, for good this time.”
“Oh, yeah? Who’s the lucky guy?” I climbed onto the couch, curling up under my blanket and trying to stifle my yawn.
“His name is Monty, and he’s the one,” she gushed, flopping down next to me. Reaching out, she tugged the blanket around her and snuggled up against me.
“And?” I prompted, waiting for more information. Instead, she sat there with a silly grin on her face, one I’d never seen her wear before. “Kelly, I need more than just a name and a declaration that he’s the one.”
“He’s just…” For the first time since I’d met her, she struggled to speak. “He’s amazing and beautiful.”
“Tall? Short? Blond? Brunette? Give me some details, girl.”
“Um, tall, but everyone’s tall compared to me,” she giggled, laying her head on my shoulder. “I’d guess he’s just over six feet. He has a body to die for, like seriously buffed out, you know? Um, let’s see, he’s got dark auburn hair and deep almond-colored eyes. Oh, and the cutest little freckles sprinkled across his cheeks.”
“You got close enough to notice freckles, huh?” I teased, nudging her with my shoulder. “Wow, he must be something special. Where’d you meet him?”
“At the grocery store,” she snickered. “I know, cliché, but it’s true. I was looking for a decent arrangement of flowers for Momma’s Sunday brunch, and he was wandering around aimlessly like a lost little boy. I felt so bad for him. I just had to help him with his list.” Pausing, she looked over at me, her cheeks tainted pink. “Oh, Em, he’s just so…and he makes me feel….” Kelly sighed, feeling flustered. “I’m gonna marry him one day.”
“Marriage, Kel?” I quipped. “How long have you known him?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She shrugged her shoulders. “He’s the one; the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. I just know it. Before you ask, because I know you’re going to, Momma and Daddy love him.”
“Wow, that’s…great.” I tried to be happy for her, but inside I churned with jealousy. I wanted to fall in love, too. To be so head over heels that the words were lost by the mere thought of him. Taking a deep breath, I looked away. My gaze fell onto package resting on my coffee table. “What’s that?”
“I don’t know; I found it sitting on your porch.” She stood up, throwing the blanket back onto me. “I need some coffee. How can you handle sleeping with it so cold in here?”
“I just do,” I mumbled, barely hearing a word she said.
Sitting on the edge of the couch, my hands shook when I reached out and picked up the small box. I slid my fingers under the corners, lifting the tabs up. The paper peeled away with little effort. I tossed it onto the table. I ghosted my fingers over the lid before pulling it off, exhaling a sharp breath. Nestled inside a bed of dark blue velvet was a sterling silver pen.
Underneath, laid a note on the same stationery that as the first two had been written on. Taking the ballpoint out, I set it on my lap and opened the new message, finding the now-familiar handwriting.
In Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s play, Richelieu, he wrote “The Pen is Mightier than the Sword.” I disagree.
He never found himself lost in your beautiful brown eyes.
“What’s inside?” Kelly asked, falling onto the couch next to me. Her smile faded upon seeing my tearful expression. Placing the two cups of coffee on the table, she reached out and took my hands in hers. “Emma, honey, what’s wrong?”
“I…” The tremor in my voice stopped the words, choking them before I could utter another sound.
Instead, I handed her the note. She released her hold on me, taking it and reading over the simple words. A grin slipped back over her lips when she lifted her gaze back up at me, her eyes full of bewilderment. “Who’s this from?”
“I-I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice shaking. I brought the tips of my fingers to my lips, smiling while I explained. “This is the third gift in as many days. I don’t know who, or why, but someone keeps leaving them for me.”
“What were the first two gifts?” Her eagerness didn’t go unnoticed; she nearly vibrated with excitement.
Standing up, I rushed into my bedroom, retrieving the butterfly and book of poetry, both of which sat on my nightstand. Hugging them to my chest, I walked back into the living room and placed them on the table. Sliding back under the blanket, I told her about how I’d found the butterfly in my truck, and the book had been sent to me at the diner.
While I spoke, Kelly examined each gift and absorbed every detail, before reading both notes. Once she had finished reading, she took a deep breath and turned to face me, tucking her legs underneath her. “Sweetie, are you sure you don’t know who sent these?”
“No,” I laughed, waving a hand around. “No clue.”
“Whoever it is, they seem to know you,” she mused, running her fingers down the spine of Browning’s poetry. “At least enough to know who your favorite poet is, anyway.” She shifted her eyes back to mine; a mischievous grin crept over her lips. “You know, it sounds like someone’s got a crush on you.”
“What?” I scoffed at the idea of someone being interested in me in any way other than a friend. It just didn’t happen. Period. “That’s insane!”
“Why?” She smirked and folded her arms in front of her.
“Because I’m not interesting at all,” I exclaimed, pushing myself off the couch.
Pacing back and forth in front of her, I tried to organize my thoughts. She’d never understand. Men flocked to her, enchanted with every word she spoke. While careful of whom she chose to date, her personality was flirty and fun. It wasn’t unusual for her to have more than one man vying for her attention, whereas I’d never even been asked on a date. It seemed simple to me. Men only saw me as a friend.
Sighing, I turned back to her. “Kel, I’m just me, just Emma.”
“Why wouldn’t anyone love just you, Em?” Leaning back, Kelly crossed her legs, smirking at me.
“Um, let’s see,” I groused. “I’m boring. Lucas is probably the only guy who pays any attention to what I say, and he’s just doing it to be nice.”
“You are not, and no, he doesn’t,” she scoffed. “You just don’t get the same enjoyment out of shopping and manicures that I do. It doesn’t make you boring, it makes you…well, you. I love that you enjoy snuggling into your bed with a good book, or watching one of the tearjerker chick flicks. I just don’t want you to be alone, Em.”
“I’m…just ordinary and plain,” I huffed, folding my arms in front of me.
“Emma, you’ve never been ordinary or plain. You don’t see yourself the way the rest of us do.” Standing up, she crossed the room, placed her hand under my chin, and tilted my head up. “You’re beautiful and funny. You’re strong and courageous. Whoever this person is, they seem to be trying to tell you something. Maybe you’re just not listening.”
I shook my head, knowing that every word she spoke was because she was my friend. She didn’t understand how lonely it felt at the bottom, with nobody to care how I felt, or if I just needed a hug.
Wiping my tears off my cheeks, I whispered, “Kelly.”
“Just, please, keep an open mind? Don’t be afraid to take chances, or even look at who might be standing right in front of you.”
“My crazy best friend?” I giggled, placing my finger on the tip of her nose.
Kelly chortled, “I may be crazy, but I’m cute, too.”
I laughed, wrapping my arms around her. “Yeah, you’re pretty damn cute. Just make sure this Monty guy knows that if he hurts you, he’ll get to know my foot when it comes into contact with his ass.”
“I’ll tell him, but you don’t have to worry about him, Emma. He’s one of the good guys.” With the way her eyes sparkled at the mere mention of him, I knew she had to be right. “I’ve gotta run. Momma wants me to help her buy Daddy something for his birthday, but think about what I said, okay?”
“I will,” I replied, and I would because she asked me to at least try.
After walking Kelly to the door and making sure she got into her car safely, I made a fresh pot of coffee. Pulling my blanket up over me, I cuddled into the corner of my sectional with the book of poetry propped up on my knees, my new butterfly resting on the cushions, and twirling my new ballpoint pen between my fingers. Could Kelly be right? Was someone crushing on me? Would I be interested in pursuing something more with them?
Chapter 4: A Blast from the Past
“Order for table six is ready, Emma,” barked Calvin, slamming the two plates on the metal shelf between the kitchen and the front. “And move it, I’ve got two more orders sitting here getting cold.”
“I’m moving as fast as I can,” I snarked, tucking the plates into the crease of my arm. “Just keep them coming.”
I hooked a mini glass carafe of maple syrup on my pinky before I rushed around the counter, setting the two plates with eggs, bacon, and two pancakes down at table six. Noticing that both of their coffee mugs were empty, I gestured to the freshly brewing pot behind me. “I’ll get you a refill just when it’s ready. First cups are yours, I promise.”
“No hurry, honey.” Mrs. Michaels waved me off; her salt and pepper hair had been tightly curled down at the salon. “Just take a breath before you pass out. I’m much too old to be giving you CPR.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied with a grateful smile. Mavis and Earl Michaels were regulars and always requested me to be their server.
Both close to seventy years old, they’d barely manage to eat half their order and ask for boxes—but instead of taking their leftovers with them, they’d leave them on the table with a nice large tip.
The ice and snow that had covered the roads for the last two days began to thaw, which brought the masses out in droves. Everyone was tired of being cooped up in their homes and seemed to all decide to come in at the same time. With just Calvin, Jay, and me working, we were all feeling the strain.
“Emma, table ten!” yelled Calvin.
With a sigh, I went back to work, trying to get everyone’s food to them while it was still hot. One of the great things about living in a small town was just about everybody understood when things got a little insane. Not all of them, but most at least.
Of course, if I was being honest with myself, I’d have to admit that I’d been distracted. After receiving gifts the last three days, I expected to find something sitting on my front porch this morning, or maybe even in the cab of my truck. However, so far there’d been nothing, not even a whisper of anything to come. I didn’t know why I let it get to me. It’s not like whoever had been sending me things promised they’d come every day. I guess I just got excited with the idea that someone out there thought about me.
“Girl, get your head out of the clouds,” hollered Jay. “What’s with you today?”
“Leave her alone, Jay,” quipped Lucas, shuffling in after a family of four. “You could get off your butt and help her; it wouldn’t kill you.”
“Nobody asked for your opinion, boy,” he muttered, shooting me a dirty glower, but he didn’t utter another word. Jay’s bark was worse than his bite, always had been. Besides, we both knew he couldn’t run this place without me.
Turning back to Lucas, I found him standing right next to me, peering down at me with a strange expression on his face.
Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I felt my skin warm from his attention. “You didn’t need to say anything,” I murmured, feeling the urge to lean into him. Where’d that come from? “You know how he gets when we’re busy.”
“I know.” His words were soft, almost sensual. “You work too hard, though, Emma. What you really need is a night out; maybe some dinner and dancing.”
Laughing, I shook my head. “Oh, I don’t think so. I can’t dance.”
“What do you mean you can’t dance?” He gawked at me, eyes full of wonder. “How’s that even possible?”
I shrugged my shoulders, feeling like I was telling him my deepest, darkest secret. “I never learned. Daddy...” I paused, trying to push the ache away. “My dad never taught me how. He said he had two left feet and it’d be better if he didn’t break mine while trying to teach me.”
Reaching up, he brushed a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “Maybe I should teach you.”
“Um, no, I don’t think so,” I objected. Just the idea of trying to dance in front of him caused my stomach to hurt, which I didn’t understand. I mean, this was Lucas. He and I were friends; just friends.
“Why not?” Lucas waited for me to answer, his arms folded in front of him. There was no hiding the enjoyment he was getting out of the situation. Part of me wanted to get upset with him, but the other couldn’t help smiling with him.
I scoffed. “I’d probably break both of your feet.”
“What? You would not. Maybe just one of them, but not both,” Lucas teased.
Before I could disagree with him, the door opened and Wyatt Johnson came strutting in.
Wyatt shrugged off his coat and ran a hand through his dark, curly brown hair. He stood a few inches taller than Lucas, but his body was longer. His eyes were dark, almost black, and he had a strong jaw line. Shifting his attention over to me, his smile changed into a smirk. We’d gone to school together, like so many of the younger people in town. Wyatt and Lucas had been friends through all four years of high school, but in the summer after we graduated, they’d had a huge fight. Now neither of them could stand the other. I’d never asked Lucas what the fight was about; I knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t tell me.
“Hey, Emma,” Wyatt said, dragging his eyes down the length of my body. “You’re looking good.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, blushing from the attention. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Oh, you know, staying busy, earning a living.” Wyatt stepped past Lucas, almost elbowing him in the process, and hugged me. From over his shoulder, I noticed Lucas frown. “You smell good, too.”
“Um, thanks.” Even though people were chattering around us, the room felt awkward and tense.
Dropping his arms from around me, Wyatt looked over his shoulder at Lucas, his expression hardening instantly. “Lucas.”
“Wyatt,” he gritted, jaw clenched tight. “I heard you were back in town. Kind of surprised, though. Last I heard you were making it big down south. What happened?”
“Nothing,” he replied, winking at me. “Just decided I missed home, you know. Being around people I care about.” Looking back at Lucas, he asked, “Are you still working for the old man?”
“Yep,” he groused. “Some of us know what having a family means.” Frowning, Lucas shook his head. “I’d better go; I’ve got lots to do today and things are starting to pile up.”
“You just got here,” I blurted out, noticing Wyatt look at me from the corner of my eye. “You haven’t even had your coffee yet.”
“Yeah, I know.” Lucas shifted his gaze between me and Wyatt. “I thought I had more time, but Gramps is on a warpath today, so I’d better just go.”
“Okay.” I couldn’t hide the disappointment in my voice, not even from myself. “Be careful. Tell the old man to take it easy on you.”
“I will.” Lucas brought his hand back up to my face. For the first time, I noticed the golden flecks dancing in his eyes and the way the corners crinkled when he smiled. “Have a good day, Emma.”
With a final glare at Wyatt, he left. Stopping the door before it slammed shut, I watched him climb into his truck and pull out of the parking lot. I’d never seen him treat someone with such blatant animosity. Lucas always made it a point to show compassion to those who deserved it the least. He told me his grandmother taught him that those who need us the most are often the ones who push us away the hardest. I had no idea what had gotten into him.
Slipping his arm around my waist, Wyatt attempted to turn me away from the entrance. “Let him brood. It’s what he does best.”
“That’s not very nice.” I shrugged his arm off of me. “He used to be your friend.”
“Times change.” Wyatt sat down on one of the stools, leaning forward. “Though, you haven’t changed at all in the last ten years, Emma. You’re still as beautiful as always.”
“You’re still just as cocky.” I smirked. “You want some coffee?”
“I’d rather have some apple pie; with a scoop of ice cream on the side, of course.” His smile was contagious. Opening the pie case, I placed a slice on a plate, adding the vanilla ice cream he’d requested. When I slid it across the counter, Wyatt reached out and grabbed my hand, bringing it up in front of him. “Your hand is cold.”
“Yeah, I lost my gloves. I thought they were in my truck, but when I looked this morning, they were gone. Pretty sure a gnome snatched them.”
“A gnome?” he laughed. In that instant, I wanted to smack myself in the head for actually saying that out loud. “And just why would a gnome steal your gloves?”
“I don’t know. Maybe their hands were cold, or perhaps they like to use them for hats,” I explained, unable to stop the word vomit from pouring out. “I don’t claim to know the inner workings of a gnome’s mind, Wyatt. They’re complex creatures.”
“Hmm, well, I guess I’ll just have to be careful with mine, won’t I?” He shook his head, a mischievous smile on his lips. “I’ve missed you, Emma.”
“You have?” I asked, leaning forward with my chin resting in the palm of my hand. He nodded, mimicking my position. “Why? It’s not like we really hung out at all.”
“No, we didn’t, but I always wanted to.” His words were full of regret. “Do you ever wonder what could have been? You know if you and I had hung out more, or whatever?”
“Not really.” I shrugged my shoulders. “You weren’t really a nice guy back in school, Wyatt.”
“I’m not that guy anymore, though.” Looking up at me, he said, “Emma, ten years is a long time. A lot of things can change.”